Tainted Bonds
by L.JCenobiteOfSteel83
Summary: A full year has passed since the events of Hell on Earth, and Joey's bond to the ghostly Elliot Spencer has never diminished...and her dreams of his suffering are growing more vivid each time she sleeps. Could his demonic counterpart be behind this? One Shot Joey/Elliot Post-Hellraiser III.


_Author Introduction_ _: Here's another rewrite/repost of two old stories made into one brand new story. This time focusing on Joey/Elliot from_ _ **Hellraiser III**_ _. Seeing as it's my favourite HR movie, and Jelliot my second favourite pairing, I thought the time was right to do a story focusing on them. Some of you may recognise snippets from previous stories I've written, including an old WIP called_ _ **'My Immortal**_ _, which I scrapped; as you know I like to recycle. Otherwise, this is a relatively new idea and took so long in piecing together. I've also fleshed it and wrote new dialogue, etc. I hope you enjoy it, as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's rated M for mild cussing, a little violence, and angst. Thanks for reading, and please leave some feedback. :) - Laura_

* * *

 **Tainted Bonds**

Joey Summerskill awoke in the pitch black darkness of her New York apartment room, within the crisp, clean sheets of her bed; her lithe and supple body slick with sweat and trembling hands frantically outstretched before her in a desperate search of another set of hands that only she could see within the blurred reality of her waking dream.

Again, she had dreamt of _him..._

Elliot Spencer.

Captain Elliot Spencer. Charming, eloquent, handsome... _heroic._ Noble. A supposedly long-dead man who had sought her out within her dreams one year previously to warn her of the upcoming evil attempt at world domination from the demonic half of himself, a chaotic and soulless Cenobite disconnected from another realm of existence that they thankfully stopped before it was too late...but also sadly dragging Captain Spencer back with it.

Joey was filled with regret, mourning for the burgeoning friendship that could have been between herself and the good Captain...and dare she even suggest it, a possible love.

She dreamt of Elliot often; every night since the night Hell came to Earth, dreams always so vivid, so fraught with pain and suffering. It was as if her soul was forever connected to his, and now she felt his pain even so far apart.

Her visions were always of Elliot writhing horribly with hooks barbed into his beautifully tanned skin, his flayed limbs tightly bound to spinning pillars. His handsome face was forever scrunched in terrible agony as the revolving pillar of gore and bone he was hung upon twisted him around in an unsteady, jerky movement and caused the lacerations to bleed afresh and for the nasty rusted things pinning him up to tug, rip and tear ever more at his flesh, muscle and bones, causing unbearable agony.

Blood ran in narrow streaked rivulets across his strained and overly tortured body. His cool as ice baby blue eyes widened in horror and agony, and looking directly to her, begging for help and much wanted relief and release. His free hand, shiny with his own blood, outstretched for hers. Joey could do no more than stare in utter fright and alarm at seeing such a kind man strung up helpless like an animal carcass at a butcher's shop, and she was frozen rigid to the spot.

 _"Jo-Joey...ple-please...he-help...me..."_

Elliot's soft English tones, pained and sounding similar to a throttled serpent in its strained hiss, called out for the tall and beautiful reporter, begging her. She had slowly begun to move forward, snapped free of her frozen spell, her own hand outstretched for his. Their fingers were always inches away from touching when shrill, mocking inhuman laughter filled the darkness of the kindly soldier's place of torture.

And then he was directly behind her...the ends of pins tickling slightly at her neck and a pair of muscular, leather bound arms snaking around her waist. Chilled lips pressed against her ear, whispering something about coming back to collect her soul and that this was far from over. Then she would scream out into the echoed silence of her nightmarish realm...

And that was always when she woke up; dazed, confused and her adrenaline sky high, her heart racing and thundering away like an express train beneath her rib-cage.

Joey had lost count of the number of times this very same dream had plagued her sleep since the awful, horrific events of the year before. She had assumed, rather realistically, that she was suffering from some form of Post Traumatic stress following the sights and horrors she had endured. Seeing her friends, her very good friends, murdered and reanimated into blood lusting S&M demons.

 _Sweet little doe eyed and dark haired Terri; homeless with nothing other in the world but a burgeoning friendship with the ambitious reporter._

 _Daniel 'Doc' Fisher; the encouraging and kindly long-haired moustached middle aged cameraman who was always willing to see Joey with big talent and heading for her big break, despite teasing from her fellow employees at the station about her clean and appropriate professionalism to her job._

Both good and innocent people, recruited along with other innocent souls to serve _him_ \- that, that _monster_ who she had hated with every fibre of her being...but rather confusedly also fell in love with...shared an explicable and undeniable bond with.

Elliot Spencer. The man with the clean cut, friendly features and frost blue eyes of pure kindness when she gazed to him in Limbo, bestowing a gentle boyish smile upon her. An army Captain from World War one, and once transformed to serve Hell as a demonic creature obsessed with pain and pleasure thanks to a certain golden cube shaped puzzle box over seventy years previously. His human soul had escaped the confines of his darkness, thanks to a certain young girl six years previously, named Kirsty Cotton, who had bravely reminded him of his long forgotten humanity.

But he had been sent to the torturous realm of Limbo where he would be forever reminded of the war he fought in so long ago, the war that had twisted him up deep inside and had disillusioned him. But the darkness that had been born of those very feelings, Elliot's unbidden desires personified - mutilated, leather bound and face tattooed with pins - had unfortunately been released on Earth after sacrifices of blood. This creature that was another side of Elliot had nearly destroyed the planet, had almost plunged it into the very pits of Hell itself during his power hungry greed, but Joey and his human side had managed to stop him and send him back to where he rightfully belonged - in Hell. But at a price.

Elliot had been sent back too. There was no other choice, and for that Joey would forever feel regret and sorrow, hence why she believed she kept having these strange, horror filled dreams of Elliot's suffering somewhere in Hell.

Was he truly suffering? Was he in agony somewhere down in Hell while his demonic twin watched on in profound glee and sadistic pleasure? Was he trying to warn her over something? Did he desperately need her help?

Or was it just simply dreams conjured up by the traumas her eyes had seen of that night and had fed her mind?

She did not know for sure, which only served to torment her more than she already was.

However now, back in the real world, her racing heart rate now slowing to a normal and regular pace, and her rapid heavy breathing now coming under control, Joey turned her blue, wide eyed gaze to her clock - the big red digital numbers screaming at her that it was now six in the morning, despite the darkness which was still descended over her apartment. Much was evident when she stared over to the drawn curtains and seen minuscule rays of light trying to push its way in from outside.

Stretching her arms over her head, a big yawn escaping her lips, Joey achingly and rather reluctantly risen from the snug warmth of her bed. Her sore, sleep ridden eyes adjusted to the concealed dark throughout her spacious apartment as she groggily made her way toward the window, the very window she walked through and stepped into an alternate reality to meet him just a year before, and harshly drew back the curtains. The bright, beaming sunlight shone and lit up the entire room and stung at her heavy eyes, and it took a moment or two for them to grow accustomed to the blinding light which was now flooding in and forcing her still slumbering brain to awaken.

Joey sighed as she gazed ahead into the beautiful, bustling city from the view at her window. A city that, just a year before, nearly came close to being sucked into Hell. Nobody but her would ever know of the evils they nearly tasted, of the dark demon that almost ruled over them all with cruel sadistic power, and for that she felt such envy, but simultaneously she was grateful they were blissful ignorant. These dreams were growing ever more vivid by the day, much more torturous and more painful to recall. It was getting just too much.

Choosing to ignore the previous night's macabre visions conjured up by her own tormented mind, Joey Summerskill headed straight for the shower, hoping that the soothing, warm cascading water would wash away all her troubles and night time sights within her head.

It was rather funny; she had decided to keep that old fashioned transistor radio dated from the early nineteen hundreds she had found within her airing cupboard back that fateful night. Where it had truly come from, she would never know, but it had come in quite a good use first thing in the morning when she woke up. For some reason, it still continued to pick up radio signals from the stations of today, and she would always turn it onto a station which played lulling soft jazz music she had truly grown to love. She would listen to it every morning as she got ready for work, and the gentle music never failed to relax her tense muscles - along with a calm shower.

Stripping herself down naked, Joey stepped into the tub and allowed the jet of water to freely cascade down her body, washing away all her aches and stiffness, relaxing her tense muscles. But as much as it soothed her physical woes it could never wash away her mental anguish, no matter how much water splashed down her body.

Those horrible, torturous images once again returned to her as the warm water flowed down her form, and in the heat induced steam she felt nausea over come her, especially when Elliot's panicked and pain stricken face came into her visions once again, his whispering, strangled hiss begging for help and his body ravaged by hooks and nails.

And then, a familiar cold and dark voice cut into Elliot's gentle and desperate pleas, mocking and gloating; _"Oh Joey, this is far from over. Such sights we have yet to show you..."_ the voice purred darkly in her mind.

Then it was all white...

* * *

The trenches were empty.

Joey felt the dirt beneath her feet and could smell the lingering stench of cannon fire and burnt flesh, yet there were no bodies to be seen.

The world in which she stood was a muted hue of brown and grey. There was no bird song, no voices that chattered in the gloom, and the only sound filling the heavy silence was the crackle of the fire coming from a wooden platform behind an abandoned field gun.

Joey hitched up her white gown and tentatively moved around the deep furrows in the earth. She walked for a while in the scarred earth, squinting through the misty air, trying to find the man she had dreamed about as often as she had dreamed about her father. She stepped around a heavy wooden ladder that lay outside the trench, searching the landscape and stopped when she saw a figure heading toward her. When she spotted the peaked cap and subsequently recognised the familiar smile, she ran to him.

"Elliot!"

He was _here_ , he was _safe_...flesh unmarred and soul free from pain.

"Joey. It is wonderful to see you again." Elliot Spencer said softly, his blue eyes twinkling.

There was nothing more she wanted than to throw her arms around his neck and hold him close, and that was precisely what she proceeded to do. "I needed to see you." she breathed, her face buried in his shoulder and inhaling that all too real stench of gunpowder and blood.

The Captain pulled from the embrace, holding her at arm's length as he gazed into her misted eyes. Clad in his usual khaki uniform and dark clean boots, he looked to Joey more heroic and confident than she remembered. His posture was straight and his blue eyes gleamed at her.

"I was so worried for you. My dreams...you suffer. I thought you were lost." Joey reached for his hands and squeezed them; her way of ensuring he wasn't just another apparition to taunt her, or that would disappear on touch.

Elliot rested his thumbs on the top of her hands and gently stroked the skin in circular motions. He gazed up to her and his smile faltered. "I am lost Joey. I am afraid of that, there is no doubt. But please, do not grieve for me as you did your father. You have your own life now, a fresh start." At this, Elliot looked at their surroundings. "A new and bright future a long, long way from this dark past."

Joey felt the tears well up in her eyes. She didn't want to cry, to disappoint him. He had once called her brave and though the volume had been turned down in her life, she wanted him to believe that she was still the fighter that he was proud of. But when she looked at the man before her with his dimpled smile and shining eyes, she could not bear to think of him trapped in his own personal Hell.

"Surely there is something we can do. Can you not escape from _him_?"

He lifted a hand to her face and wiped away a stray tear.

"I don't believe either of us can." he said, losing the dimples.

Joey leaned into his touch and studied him. Captain Elliot Spencer had occupied most of her night time world, no less her waking thoughts, and to feel his flesh on hers brought with it a longing to be with him, to help him.

It was a painful realisation for Joey that she had gradually and quite hopelessly fallen in love with a ghost.

For a few seconds, they stood before each other, silent, searching the depths in each other's eyes. Finally, Elliot spoke.

"There is always a way Joey, but I will not ask you to do it. As strong as you are, I will not risk losing you to _him_. You barely escaped with your life when I asked for your help last time. For that I am forever in your debt, not the other way around. I have been through enough despair in my life and I will not add to it by allowing your soul to be...to be _mutilated._ "

Joey fought back more tears as she watched Elliot's gaze lower to the floor in defeat.

"You said that Kirsty had freed you before so it is possible." Her expression became determined. "I would walk into Hell for you Elliot."

She stepped closer to him until she was inches from his face. She raised his chin with one hand whilst the other stroked the side of his head. His look was one of puzzlement as she swept her lips over his. It wasn't long before he followed her lead and both fell into a deep embrace, each kiss more urgent than the last.

He swept his fingers up the pale gown, making deep trenches in the fabric before stopped at her breast and stroking his thumb against her nipple. She murmured his name and softly bit his top lip, savouring the coolness of his skin. Although part of her knew this was a dream that she had longed for, there was lucidity about it that she had felt when she had first encountered Elliot. She could feel the softness of his skin and each time he tentatively caressed her breast and stomach, she felt the nerves in her flesh stand to attention for the Captain.

He released her momentarily, and raised his eyebrows. "Joey, I think I might be a little too old for you." he said with a smirk.

"By about eighty years or so, give or take." she replied with a chuckle. At another time in her life it would have seemed absurd to her to be engaged in foreplay with a long deceased First World War veteran, but things had changed and for now this felt like one of the more sane experiences. "I don't think time really matters here,"

Elliot considered her statement. "No, I don't suppose it does."

She moved toward him again and reclaimed his inviting lips.

"We are soul mates, Joey." he murmured in between kisses. "I knew that from the first moment we met, here. You were my angel in white."

"Then let me try to save you. Please let me help you," she begged of him, clutching his shoulders.

"No. The only way to do that is to open the box, to delve into my Hell. I will not allow that. I cannot allow it.

She kissed the side of his neck and nuzzled close to his ear. "That's what I would have to do? I've solved the box before, I can do it again." She let out a long sigh. If that was the only way, then so be it. She had once defeated Pinhead with Elliot's help, and God willing, she could do so a second time. It would be worth it to spend time with this extraordinary man. Again, she threw her arms about his shoulders and held him tight, then closed her eyes wanting to savour his touch and his embrace. "I _love_ you."

She felt Elliot's hands tighten at her waist, and his lips rest at her earlobe.

"I will take you to the very pinnacle of ecstasy Joey, and I will enjoy making you enjoy it."

In the second she pushed back off him and fell to the earth, the memory of Pinhead previously invading her dreams pulsated into her conscious with a sickening thud.

"NO!" she cried.

She looked back to where Elliot had stood and noticed the eerie changes in his features. The smile fell into a wide, mocking grin. His pallor greyed and the all too familiar gridded cuts sank deeply into his flesh. The nails that had given rise to her name for him suddenly materialised, sticking out in parallel rows along his face and head. The honourable uniform from decades past was replaced with slick black leathers, gashed along the chest with flayed remnants of bleeding flesh weeping in between.

The demon in leather had come back for her...as she had feared.

"Oh how touching, Joey," said the Cenobite in a deep, level voice.

"You invaded my dreams! You bastard! Where is he? Answer me!" Joey screamed.

The creature she knew simply as Pinhead smirked and tapped his chest. "He is here, with me. You dream of his suffering, do you not? Don't be so antagonistic child. He too dreams of you, longs for you, Joey. I let him free...for a short time. The sample you tasted was his gift. That was nothing compared to the type of gratification that I can offer you."

Joey sneered at the demon. "Liar! It would be your own gratification, not mine."

"Your ignorance belies your lack of experience. Your pitiful existence from the reality you dwell in is just one of the torments I can alleviate. It is all in the box Joey. In it is every answer to every question you seek. It is all indulgences satiated without remorse or mercy. If you relent to me I give you my promise that you will never be alone."

She felt her eyes fill up again, this time with frustration and disappointment. Again, Pinhead had tricked her. Again, she was made to look the fool; only this time there was no Elliot to save her.

"Fuck you!" Joey spat.

The Cenobite cocked his head and smirked. "Hmm, let us not go down that path again. It is entirely too limiting, not nearly enough suffering to keep me engaged, although the bite..." He ran his forefinger across his cracked top lip. "...showed some potential." He broke into a deep, threatening chuckle that rang sharply in Joey's ears.

She lifted herself unsteadily from the dirt and began to back away. She had no idea where she was going but she knew she needed to be far away from the creature that tainted her vision.

The Cenobite's black, depth-less eyes watched her with amusement.

She longed for Elliot to be there, to keep eye contact with her. To tell her that everything was going to be all right. She swallowed hard in her throat and searched his eyes, as if trying to find Elliot's kind baby blues within the obsidian. She could not. Again, she swallowed, then whispered; "Please...please tell me. Does _he_ suffer?"

"We _both_ do, Joey. You know that better than most," he replied. The Cenobite stroked two fingers along her cheek, a parody of the touch that Elliot had once afforded her.

Joey winced and twisted her head to the side, knowing that one way or the other she would eventually succumb to his commands. The demon seemed to be able to retrieve her innermost desires with an ease that made him much more persuasive. When he wanted to, he would allow her a glimpse of Elliot through gesture, expression or word and if Elliot was truly a part of this dark angel, then he would suffer with her and she would be made aware of that.

She finally allowed his fingers to enter her mouth, recoiling slightly from the taste of blood under his fingernails. He took her tongue between his fingers and pulled gently, eagerly watching her face for each nuance of terror and pleasure.

"Come now. With all that you have seen and the sounds and smells we have allowed you so far to taste, why would you want to continue living amongst banality when you understand there is so much more to savour? Join us Joey. Join Elliot and I. We both long to show you the way. The desire is there, you stand at the door to everlasting pleasures, and you only need to turn the key."

The air around them was stale and all was silent. The aftermath of destruction and defeat fell heavily on Joey's shoulders. It was all too clear to her now; the dreams of Elliot strung up by hooks and chains had been nothing more than a symbolism of his true suffering...the suffering he experienced as a soul trapped within confines of the demonic entity he had helped to create so long ago.

"You can see us both again Joey. All you need to do is open the box." he hissed.

* * *

Joey awoke with a start on the tiled floors of the bathroom, the Cenobite's haunting words still echoing in her ears. Pushing her aching body upward and checking for any injuries, she staggered out of the shower and turned off the faucet.

Wrapping a towel around her soaking slim form, Joey then looked toward the table near her TV and her eyes honed in on the Lament Configuration she had failed to dispose of following the events of Hell on Earth. The box sat upon the wood, polished and full of promises that she knew would be tainted with hurt and regret as well as pleasure and longing.

Tentatively taking the intricate puzzle box in a trembling hand, her thoughts dwelling on Elliot and the suffering they could experience together for an eternity, Joey Summerskill's fingers danced along the grooves and patterns for one final time...

 _ **The End...**_

* * *

 _\- :( Darn. I know it's a slightly depressing ending, but I always thought there was a chance Joey might join Pinhead/Elliot in Hell. So this is slightly AU; Joey of course had not gotten rid of the box in this depiction, which was part of the 'My Immortal' story had I continued with it. And also, in the first draft of the HR3 screenplay, Joey became Pinhead/Elliot's Dark Bride of Hell, and then went on to become a successful TV executive. Maybe this is what happens next in my story. LOL Either ways, it's down to the reader to determine Joey's fate. Hope you enjoyed! -_


End file.
